


I fell for you

by BubbleGoth666



Series: This could be heaven or hell [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Apocalypse, Apple of Eden, Armageddon, Comfort, Creation, Fallen Angels, Heaven, Hell, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), London, M/M, Multi, Origin Story, Past Abuse, Past Lives, Pre-At World's End, Punishment, Revolution, Romance, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-05-15 10:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGoth666/pseuds/BubbleGoth666
Summary: "Eden, the origin of everything?"No, mankind's history starts centuries earlier. Only a few souls remember the epoche before Eden. Crowley is one of them. The highest authority herself dooms him to keep it secret. Even in front of Aziraphale he can't open up. The memories constantly eat further into his soul.If he opened up to his partner, who knows if he could handle the true story of his fall?When an old friend pays the demon a visit, the fate of earth starts to vaguely saunter downwards again. Omega is near.History dares to repeat itself. Crowley is forced to break his silence for saving his angel's life.Nobody could have imagined the real outcome of the story.





	1. Ineffible

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second work of the series: This could be heaven or hell
> 
> I had the idea to this fanficition while thinking about the origin of Angels and Demons. Maybe some of you will agree on my theory, even though it will take some time until the truth is revealed. Crowley unfortunately is tongue tied a little.
> 
> Let's pray/curse for our ineffable husbands.

Mankind has been searching for their true origin for thousands of years. As time went by, they have found multiple, often contrary, sometimes very abstract, barely scientific answers. 

Their arrogant desire to be right has often pushed them to the extreme. Wars were fought. Heads rolled for the knowledge they held. However, they have never found the real answer to this question.  
Nowadays, the numerous, radical positions have been limited to a few, more or less plausible theories. Still none of them is right.  
If humanity knew what their origin was, they probably would feel pretty upset about their actual insignificance. 

The Christian or evangelic church was pretty close with their assumption, that mankind was created by god in the garden of Eden. Despite the parts that actually scream fairytale and a few wrong few dates, they weren’t so wrong with their imaginations. 

Nevertheless, their inherited divine ego caused them to boldly assume their only purpose was to be the reflection of God. How wrong they are. If they were just as omnisicant as their creator, they would know their true place. An experiment. They were part of a huge trial and error game. All these theories were based on little jokes, the savior herself had created for confusing them.  
Of course, them taking it to another level by starting wars about it hadn’t been her intention. Despite she quite enjoyed watching them freaking out over a new pair of dinosaur bones.

Only a few selected souls were aware of the fact, that the universe like we know it now isn’t the first and probably also not the last one that was created by her as an experiment. The question was: what was she researching on? This, like all divine plans are and always will be… Ineffable. 

Crowley could tell stories from the past, even though he preferred to avoid certain parts of his history. The last six-thousand years had been very pleasant, expect for the 14th century. If he had made his enjoyment of an epoch dependent on Aziraphale's presence, he would have had to go farther back in time to find another terrible epoch. Much further. Surprisingly only him. His boyfriend’s memory started at their first encounter on top of the wall, which had surrounded the garden of Eden. 

However, the demon carried around the weight of knowledge from thousands of years earlier. Probably that was the reason why his heart always felt so heavy, when he wasn’t with his angel. 

Today was one of these days when the spirits of the past didn’t let him rest. Instead, he had been starring out of the window for quite a long time now.  
The City of London was captured in a heavy rainstorm, but all the raindrops could never wash away the filth the demon sensed within all those perfect, similar house facades, glass panes and garden walls. Humanity indulged in mortal sins, usually much to his entertainment. This night he couldn’t mock them, couldn’t identify with them. All he could do was stare out of the window, counting the raindrops that fell… and shattered on the ground…

Falling… Something he was very familiar with.

London never slept. There were always lights shining behind the windows of the skyscrapers and houses. Their huge, yellow cat-like eyes seemed to stare back at him tonight. Directly into his soul. If he had one. 

A soft sigh escaped his lips, while he leant back in his throne, still holding eye contact with the beast called London Town. Anyone else would have found this sight beautiful or peaceful, possibly somewhat melancholic.

Despite Crowley. It stirred up memories as if a stone had been thrown into a water basin, the waves showered him with images from the past. Just like him centuries ago his mind started to vaguely saunter downwards, back to its roots. Before he could drown in those nostalgic, yet suffocating thoughts, a familiar voice ripped him out of his trance.

“Crowley, my dear? Why are you still awake?”his boyfriend asked, in a soft but clearly concerned voice. “Just wallowing in mankind’s depravity.” The ginger replied, trying to sound as normal as possible. Nevertheless, his angel knew him well enough, to hear out the raspy, sorrowful undertone of his words. “I have known you long enough; I can tell when there’s something on your mind my dear.” Aziraphale reminded him, in an instructive, but worried tone.  
The demon couldn’t help it and mimicked the first part of his sentence sarcastically. “I’Ve KnOwN yOu lOnG eNoUgH.” However, he stopped mocking, when he realized that his partner simply cared for him. A soft sigh, that sounded more like a hiss escaped his lips. “It’s nothing. Forget about it, go back to sleep.” His voice changed from a commanding to more of a beg.

“Oh dear, you know I don’t have to sleep. I mostly do it, because you enjoy it. And I can be close to you.” Aziraphale replied softly, slowly approaching the chair. The silence between them was filled with a heavy tension, that almost caused the kind soul to feel sick in the stomach. “So… Can I be close to you?” he asked shyly. 

After all those years, he still didn’t want to upset his lover with his clinginess. Right now, he had rather asked because he had the feeling, that his partner could use some comfort, even though he’d never ask for it openly. “Yes, of course my angel.” The demon replied, without hesitation or even an annoyed sigh, proving his suspicion to the blonde. Quickly, before he could change his mind, Aziraphale walked up to him, offering him his hand as a sign of support. 

However, Crowley didn’t feel like only handholding was enough right now. Instead, he pulled his love down onto his lap, before could have complaint about himself being too heavy. A surprised but utterly adorable squeak slipped from the angel’s lips, followed by an annoyed sigh. “How inappropriate from you! Don’t do that! You know I am always scared! Also are you sure I am not to- “ the angel started to protest, but the ginger shut him up with a soft, loving kiss. “Shut it.” He whispered against his lips, while enjoying their sweet, intoxicating taste of vanilla and cocoa. Aziraphale didn’t contradict him, instead melted into their kiss, holding onto his shirt softly… The demon earned a playful slap to the shoulder for his boldness, causing him to chuckle softly. “I am sorry My HiGhNeSS.” He mocked him sarcastically, causing his partner to pout. There was only one way to solve this. Another kiss. Softly he pressed their lips against each other again. At first he felt resistance, which soon faded away while his love melted into the kiss. 

After they had broken the connection of their lips, causing the tingling sensation to stop rushing through their nerves, the blonde cuddled closer to him. Protectively Crowely wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close to his chest. His boyfriend’s fingers drew patterns onto his chest lovingly, it tickled a little through the fabric of his shirt, eliciting a light smile. “There it is.” His angel triumphed quietly. Crowley couldn’t help it but role with his eyes, still keeping up the smile, though. “Don’t get used to it.” He teased, but then stared back out of the window. “I would never dare such a thing; you’re a demon after all.” Aziraphale answered sarcastically, however his smile vanished quickly, when he noticed the sadness in his lover’s eyes. 

Usually, his yellow orbs were filled with an unshakable self-confidence, the ferocity of purgatory and boundless love, only for his angel. Now these strong emotions were covered up by a veil of melancholy. Not the good one. A dull mist laid over his iris, as if the purgatory behind it had been extinguished by the crushing weight of dark memories. Aziraphale felt a stinging pain in his heart. He had never seen him like this before. Not even when he had been convinced, he had died in the flames of the book shop; his expression had appeared so lost. 

“Dear what’s wrong?” he asked more sternly now, sitting up a little. “You know I hate it, when you lie to me.” He added, as a thread since usually he was upset for weeks if his lover lied to him. “Did you have nightmares again?” he suspected even more worried than before, also felt guilty again immediately. 

From time to time his boyfriend woke up in the middle of the night, bathed in sweat, reaching out for him in pure despair and panic. Then Aziraphale knew he had dreamt of the book shop fire again…  
“Nothing.” Crowley replied, his eyes widening, when he heard his assumption “No! No! Not the nightmares.” He reassured him, so he wouldn’t have a bad conscience.

“What else?” his boyfriend burst out, feeling sorry for his offended tone immediately. His brown orbs were filled with so much worry, also love, unconditional love. A soft sigh slipped from Crowley’s lips. He wanted to tell him. However, his tongue felt like it was tied to his palate. Paralyzed. He chocked on his words. The more he tried to get them out, the more they stung his throat. All of sudden he felt like as if he had swallowed nails. So, his boyfriend wouldn’t notice, he cleared his throat, but the tight feeling in his chest didn’t vanish. A gallows rope around the neck couldn't feel any worse. Actually, that was exactly what it felt like… 

He had been close to spilling a forbidden secret. Not forbidden by anyone, but by the highest authority herself. God. Why did he, a demon, follow the orders of god? Usually, he never did, but this was the one and only expectation. The only connection he had left to heaven expect for his soon to be husband. Those memories… 

“Crowley, please answer me!” Aziraphale begged, sounding slightly upset already. All he wanted was to be there for him, why did he always have to push him away? “L… Like I said, it’s nothing.” He mumbled, trying to prevent his voice from cracking. “You’re lying to me.” The blonde snapped, getting up from his lap, almost tripping over his own legs. “Why are you keeping secrets? I thought we trusted each other with our lives?” he asked, the hurt was obvious in his now shivering voice. Tears were dwelling up in the corners of his eyes. “Why can’t you tell me?” he asked again, close to sobbing. It was always the same... No matter when he tried to make him open up, all he earned was lies... excuses... rejection. He did not deserve this. Neither would he accept this. 

Sometimes Crowley couldn’t stand his overly emotional side, especially not now. “I… I trust you with… stop accusing me of… I CAN’T TELL YOU OKAY?!” he yelled frustratedly, getting out of the chair as well. The sudden cry had made Aziraphale wince, even take a step back. 

His boyfriend had never yelled at him before. Now he couldn’t prevent a few tears from falling. “Al…Alright. No… need to yell.” The angel sobbed, trying to keep a straight face, but failed terribly. Slowly he turned around, leaving him alone with his misery. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” the demon cursed, turning around, hammering with his fist against the wall beside the window. His heartbeat was racing, while the scared face of his lover lingered in front his eyes constantly. Right now, he couldn’t bear his own reflection in the window, so he leant his forehead against the cold glass. His breath was fogging the window, while its coolness calmed him down a little. “Damn it… I… I wish I could tell him… After all these centuries, it’s still such a burden…” he talked to himself, as if someone else would give him a proper reply. Instead, the leaden silence crashed down onto him even harder. 

His thoughts wandered back to his lover, who surely was crying right now. Somehow, he was frozen in place. He couldn’t follow him and comfort him. No, he was paralyzed. “Fuck you God. You hear me? Just fuck you.” He hissed enraged. As a reply a thunder echoed outside, the lightning forced the serpent to look away from the window. However, he wasn’t scared, simply more pissed off. “Save the show. I get who the little demon is and who the divine being is. All right, all right.” He growled, while turning his back on the window.

After a few deep breaths, he felt calm enough to talk to Aziraphale. His steps were hesitant, when he approached the bedroom. Green orbs scanned through the darkness, until they spotted the curled-up silhouette under the sheets. He was still shivering a little, but luckily not crying anymore. Slowly Crowley approached the bed, sitting down beside him, but keeping some distance for giving him the opportunity of sending him out. Silence ruled for a few moments. Then he sighed, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder “Aziraphale…” he began, in an apologizing tone. 

The angel moved his hand away carefully. “Why do you await from me to always accept you keeping secrets?” he asked him, before the demon could start apologizing. That question made him wince, worsening his bad conscience. His guts cringed tighter. “I… I don’t… At least not on purpose.” he tried to defend himself weakly. “Then tell on me. Reveal it to me, that big secret that haunts you since… since we know each other?” Aziraphale demanded strictly. He sighed once again. “I… I can’t.” he leant in and caressed over his back again. “But… Please, believe me, it has nothing to do with you.” He added, hoping to sooth him a little. “No? Then why can’t you tell me? Is it about someone else? Someone you’ve been with before?” he asked, sounding rather scared, also close to crying once again. “No… No… Azira… please.” Crowley immediately denied that.

Before his lover could continue talking, he simply pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s not connected to us in the slightest.” He promised him softly. “It’s about the past. We live in the present. Sometimes these things haunt me. But I don’t want you to get involved in that.” He explained as vaguely as possible.

“Maybe I don’t want the love of my immortal life to be tortured by those thoughts?” his boyfriend replied, while hiding his face in his chest. Once again, he held onto his shirt, as if he was scared of him falling to ashes any second. “I… I know my angel. Don’t worry about it too much. I promise you I am not suffering. I have you… How could I be in pain, while you’re with me?” he asked with a sad smile upon his lips. 

“I can’t. You’re with me… my personal savior.”  
 


	2. A cup off coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things never change.
> 
> The way people drink their coffee... and the way you behave around someone, who you could never forgive his actions, but still you're bound to keeping them pleased...
> 
> What nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :)  
> I hope you will enjoy my new chapter. It's a lot of dialoge. I hope you don't mind that.  
> Pay attention to the small details it will help you give a lot of hints about Crowley's past.  
> Also the reason why he has fallen in the first place, oh excuse me why he has vaguely sauntered downwards.

   
They didn’t speak about that incident anymore. Fortunately, Aziraphale had never been vindictive. Nevertheless, Crowley had learnt his lesson.

Whenever, his thoughts wandered off to these dark places he withdrew under a plausible pretext. Every time he returned home; he had come to a different solution about the question if he’d ever be able to forget the past.

Sometimes he let himself be tempted to human naivety, then he actually believed the kitschy saying: “Time heals all wounds.”. Ironically since a mortal life only felt like the blink of an eye for him. So how should they heal their wounds with time if their time was limited so rapidly? Perhaps, they simply didn’t experience so much pain as an immortal? Or the time of healing was proportional to the lifespan? So, it took him millennia to overcome a tragedy, while people only needed decades? He didn’t know.

On other days he was convinced, that this would haunt him forever.

However, most of the time he returned home without having any solution, just longing to be close to his partner again. The best remedy for him.

Today was one of these days.   
He threw the keys of his beloved Bentley into the bowl beside the door. His baby had sincerely played “Bohemian Rhapsody” the entire ride home. What a macabre humor his black beauty had. “Angel, I am home.” He called out for his boyfriend, awaiting to be greeted in the usual way with a kiss to the cheek and tons of questions about his trip.

“We are in the living room my dear.” Aziraphale’s happy voice echoed through the hallway. We? The demon thought surprised but assumed one of his partner’s many acquaintances had paid them a visit. Even though he wasn’t in the mood for small talk, he knew his lover wanted him to join them. “Who gives us the honor?” he asked, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Oh, one of your old friends. Come here and greet him my dear. He said his name was Samael.” His boyfriend replied in a carefree manner. 

All of sudden the blood froze in Crowley’s veins. His heart missed a beat. Instantly his eyes widened in shock. He nearly had gasped for air, his throat tightened. A heatwave, like thousand hot nails digging into his spine washed through him. The blood rushed from his head, into his legs, just like his heart sank. “My dear? Where are you? I am sure your hair looks fine, we are waiting.” Aziraphale tried covering up his impoliteness, sounding slightly nervous. 

Aziraphale… was in there… with him… was the next thought that shoot through Crowley’s head. Ultimately, his paralysis vanished, emerging into pure panic. He rushed to the living room. He had to see this with his own eyes. Also make sure his angel was alright… To his surprise he couldn’t sense their guest’s aura. Another reason to worry.

In seconds, which felt like years, he stumbled into the living room. He nearly tripped over the doorframe, but managed to hold onto it, trying to cover up his panic. Unfortunately, he was out of breath, sweaty and as pale as a shroud. “Crowley my dear, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” his boyfriend asked quite worried, getting up from his chair to support him. “Y…Yeah.” He stuttered out, forcing himself to smile.

Once again, he was grateful for his sunglasses; they hid the fact, that he was starring at their visitor in pure horror. He sat on the couch. How could he dare to sit here? Having tea with an Archangel! His Aziraphale! This situation couldn’t have been more surreal. However, this was the harsh reality.

“Crawley! Oh, pardon me, Crowley, it’s been such a long time!” their guest greeted him, with a wide, prominent smile. The voice rang in his ears, awaking all those memories. Those terrible, yet so melancholic pictures in his mind arose.   
His words were captured in his throat. He was tongue tied. A very rare occurrence. “Sit down! We have so much to talk about! I heard you stopped the Armageddon?” his “friend” invited him, petting on the spot on the couch beside him. Crowley’s movements were spiky, almost remote controlled. Nevertheless, he sat down beside him quickly. Finally, he managed to put on a smile, so his boyfriend wouldn’t get distrustful. Or even worse worried. “Y…Yes, we dealt with the apocalypse. Not a big deal.” He confirmed the story, even though he tried sounding laid-back, there was an undertone of insecurity.

“Not a big deal? You saved the world, turned against your sides, and even managed to get out of your trial! That’s incredible!” Samael contradicted his eyes sparkled with excitement. His voice had sounded fascinated however Crowley could read in those amber, cat-like eyes, that this man was secretly mocking him. Just like his appearance, he seemed to be perfect, naturally demanding respect from the people around him. “Well, we had a bit help by a witch, the kids from the block, a nerd, the usual cliché, you know?” he replied, trying to play it off. 

Samael’s laughter was deep, infectious and came directly out of his stomach, causing Aziraphale to join him. Only Crowley sat there in silence, wishing his alarm clock would rip him out of this nightmare at any second. “Oh, you and your cynicism.” The other demon chuckled, patting his shoulder. On the outside just a friendly gesture, but Crowley could feel his hand directly hitting the spots were his wings were hidden. A warning. An assert of dominance. It caused him goosebumps. Another wave of cold sweat crashed down over his head. This situation needed changing.

“Aziraphale, my angel, could you get me a cup of coffee?” he asked his boyfriend, for having a minute alone with the other man. “Of course, my dear.” His lover agreed immediately, finally convinced that his boyfriend wouldn’t sneak out of the situation anymore. Quickly he got up, flashing them a soft smile “Anything else I can bring you? Another cup?” he asked, holding his hand out for Samael’s nearly empty mug. “Yes please. No sugar. No milk.” The raven-haired man agreed, with a prominent smile upon his lips. “Alright. Give me a moment.” The blonde begged, while leaving the room. Finally, they were alone.

The nervous tension inside of Crowley’s body gave him the feeling of bursting into pieces at any second. A little touch probably would have been enough to make him shatter. However, his serpent instincts out weighted that irrational fear, causing him to shoot forward like a snake. He pinned the uninvited guest to the couch, nails digging into the black fabric of his shirt-collar. “Why are you here in my houssse?!” he hissed angrily into his face, as if his words were poisonous. “Tse, Tse is that a way to greet your oldest friend?” Samael scolded him with a cocky grin upon his face. He didn’t feel threatened at all. “We are not friendsss.” Crowley spat back, pushing him harder against the couch. “Why? Because of that thing a few millennials ago? You’re so vindictive.” The demon asked, minimizing the damage he had actually done to their lives.

“You’re not the one to talk about vindictiveness.” The viper scoffed, still not letting him go. “So, answer the question or is that just a macabre joke of hell?” he growled, he couldn’t stand striking face. Those perfectly plugged eyebrows, raised in a skeptical frown, while is amber eyes were laughing at him, underlined by those full lips that grimaced an arrogant smile, framed by prominent cheek bones and curly black hair. “Am I not allowed to visit my longest friend?” his counterpart asked in an exaggerated sulking tone, which brought him further to the white-hot heat. “We. Are. Not. Friends.” Crowley repeated, pronouncing every word exaggeratedly disgusted. “Is that so?” Samael asked with a dangerous undertone, raising an eyebrow in disapproval. “Yes. No doubt there.” The ginger insisted, not scared of him. Not anymore.

“Then maybe I should change my behavior a bit.” Samael decided. Suddenly the tide turned. Crowley was the one being pinned against the couch in seconds? A surprised gasp left his lips, followed by curse. His fingernails dug into the other one’s hands, which were wrapped around his throat. Fortunately, he didn’t have to breathe. Nevertheless, he struggled against his hold, like a bug under a shoe. His knuckles already turned white by the force he rammed his nails into the other’s flesh. “s…Stop it.” He gasped out hoarsely. “Why? We aren’t friends and you attacked me first.” the demon hissed back, lashing him with his own words. Sadism glowed in his eyes, like freshly lit purgatory. “Lu-Lucifer! S…stop!” Crowley demanded, using the intruder’s real name to emphasize his words. The man’s face lit up, when he heard his name. “You’re either extremely careless or brave, calling me by my real name even though your clueless little angel is next door. Just like in the old days, isn’t it?” he mocked him, finally his grip loosened around his throat.

Yes… Just like in the old days. Crowley felt the lump in his throat thickening, even though he didn’t get choked anymore. Still held in that humiliating position, but at least able to reply, he pressed out. “Both. Stop messing around. What do you want?” he asked once again, this time a lot more submissive than before. By now, his rage had died down, instead had turned into pure fear and anxiety. “That’s better, but not what I wanted to hear.” Lucifer purred back gloating, and also commanding. Crowley felt his resistance give in, like a match broken between two fingers. Immediately his usual self-confidence shrunk. Almost automatically he fell back into old patterns of behavior. Once learned you can never unlearn it. “What brings you here Sir?” the words slipped over his lips like shards of glass, leaving a bitter taste behind.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Good boy.” His former boss praised him, letting him get up as a reward. As if nothing had ever happened, he leant back against the cold, black leather sofa. He watched the other one caressing over his hurting neck with pure enjoyment. “I will grant you the satisfaction of receiving an answer.” He purred, sounded like a saint while actually speaking with the tongue of the devil himself. “I am here Crowley, because we need your help.” He revealed to him; a scary glow hidden behind his orange orbs. “Me? No. No. No. Not this bullshit again. CrOwLeY wE NeEd YoU. CrOwLeY fAlLiNg iSn’T tHaT bAd. We CaN wIn ThIs.” He quoted the past, mimicking his former comrade in a very sarcastic way. Even his face was screwed in pure disgust. “Forget it. I have left hell and heaven behind.” He denied his beg with a throw-away movement.

“What a pity, we thought we could count on our longtime friend.” Lucifer sounded upset, using the term friend on purpose, for ripping open old wounds. Soon he’d change his mind. “Well, it’s not like it’s a complete surprise. I mean you’ve already been bitching when we first tried to take over heaven and the world. So why should you simply cooperate now?” he added in a rather bored tone. All this drama always had to repeat itself. “Shut it! Don’t you know how easily these words could seal our fate?” Crowley hissed, looking around cautiously. “HA! Since when is the great Crawley so scared of the divine power?” Lucifer mocked him, clearly amused. “Oh, I know why… Because you’re not worried about your own well-being.” He assumed, actually hitting the bull’s eye with that guess. However, the ginger could never show that to him. Unfortunately, Lucifer had never needed a proof for his words. “You’re worried about your Archangel. Oh Crowley, Crowley, Crawley… You’re always repeating your mistakes, aren’t you?” he scolded him like a little boy, while crossing his legs.

Crowley set there as if a lighting had stroked him. Busted. His throat grew even more dry, while he tried finding a proper excuse for his behavior. Deep down he knew there wasn’t one. He was the mouse this time, being tortured by the sadistic cat’s games. “I will not help you.” He repeated even stricter than before. “So, you’re willing to risk your angel’s life this time?” Lucifer answered slightly surprised. “Leave. Him. Alone. He has nothing to do with us, our past or future. Leave us alone.” His old friend demanded, the shivering of his voice and the cold sweat on his skin clarified that he was actually shaking in fear on the inside. “You have been part of our past, and you will be part of our future.” Lucifer contradicted firmly, his eyes shooting him a threatening glare. “And if you don’t want your angel to go down in flames, I would cooperate if I was you.” He threatened openly now.

“You wouldn’t dare!” the redhead hissed angrily. “You can neither kill me with holy water nor him with purgatory. We proved that in our trials.” He tried fulling the devil in front of him. “Pah. Changing bodies. Cheapest trick in the world. Be glad the leadership of heaven and hell are that dumb.” Lucifer crashed his fraud with a few words. “You will need something better than that to make me leave you alone. Come on, I know you can do better. You’re a demon after all.” He encouraged him, even though any other contradiction would have been pointless. By now he already had him with his back against the wall. 

A long sigh left Crowley’s lips. A sign of defeat. That bastard. He crossed his hands in front of his belly, for preventing them from shivering. On the outside he looked calm, but if Lucifer could have seen his eyes, he’d have spotted immense terror immediately. “What do you want this time? I can’t bring you the flaming sword. We don’t have it.” He asked annoyedly, actually only covering up his anxiety. “I know. I know. We want something rather simple from you. Start your job again. But this time work for real. If our plans should be a success, we need to corrupt humanity even more.” He announced, causing Crowley to wince slightly. “For real? Can’t you do that yourself? I mean you’re Satan. This should be so easy for you. Where’s your aura by the way?” he asked him, kind of curious. "I have taken this human form, so your little pet-bird won’t notice anything. It suppresses my aura. Also, no I can’t corrupt mankind myself. God would get distrustful right away.” Lucifer denied his beg.

“And what is the sense of all of this?” Crowley asked, silently praying to the seven princes of hell, that they weren’t the same motives as the first time. “The same as in the past. Omega has never ended.” His former boss confirmed his biggest fear. “And what do you think you will get out of thisss?” Crowley hissed at him annoyed. “Our great triumph. Our victory over God and her terror regime.” The devil announced heroically. “So, are you in or will both of your heads roll like the dices over Eden’s fate?” he added in a tone, that clearly ruled out a “no” as answer. “I… I am in.” the other one pressed out behind gritted teeth. “Perfect. Then pick up your job again. You’ve had a way too long vacation.” Lucifer ordered, patting his shoulders once again, nearly causing him to freeze in fear and disbelief Crowley to fall from the couch. “So, my work is done here. I will call if I need anything else.” He informed him, while getting up. “Also, by the way you’ve grown careless. You should have noticed by now that I stopped time once that retarded pigeon had left the room. What a dangerous detail to oversee. See you soon Crawley.” His words had lashed him like whip one more time before he disappeared. 

The smell of Sulphur hung in the air and there was a burning mark on the wooden floor, where Crowley’s biggest nightmare just had disappeared. Finally, the huge, wooden clock behind him began to tick again. Just like the demon in front of it. With an emotionless, kind of lost expression he sat there, starring at the floor. This had to be a nightmare. How could this all restart? He thought, while trying not to vomit. His entire biological system was crashing due to the overstimulation of his emotions. He couldn’t do that… he couldn’t….

“Oh, did our guest already leave? What about his coffee?” Aziraphale’s surprised voice, ripped him out from his thoughts. He had too… he had to do it for his boyfriend. “He got a call. Hell is busy place.” He replied after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Did he at least tell you why he visited? It’s kind of impolite to just appear in someone’s living room.” The angel moralized, still sounding a bit upset about that impoliteness. 

Damn. What should he tell him? Crowley’s mind was racing. He reached out for his cup, to try to buy himself some time. Unfortunately, his hand was shivering. “Nothing… Just checking up. He’s a demon. You know we never bother with doors.” He lied to him, not bearing to look him straight into the eyes while doing so. “Yes, that’s so impolite.” Aziraphale complained, while sitting down beside him on the couch. “Are you alright my dear? You’ve been acting a bit strange since you’ve come home.” He asked worriedly, reaching out to take his hand in his. Crowley felt terrible. He didn’t deserve his care, his sweetness. As casually as possible he freed his hand “Yes. I am fine. Just tired.” He lied once again, feeling his guts cringe, as if a blade had stabbed him. “Oh, alright. Maybe you should try to rest then my dear?” the blonde advised him with a soft smile. “Yes! Yes! That’s a brilliant idea!” the demon agreed, that would give him enough time to plan his further actions. 

“Want me to join you? For cuddles?” Aziraphale offered, causing him to freeze in the doorway once more. His heart bled with ever of his words “No. It’s fine.” He denied his offer; he usually never did. Afterwards, he disappeared into the bedroom, before the weight of his guilt would make him crash down… 

This had to be a nightmare… all of this…


	3. Some things...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things never change.  
> Others change with only a sentence.   
> Promises get broken.  
> Crowley is forced to realize both.  
> Meanwhile Aziraphale tries to make his boyfriend open up, but instead they hit a new rock bottom.  
> Hopefully he didn't break his wings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, that it took me so long to update. I was very busy.  
> However, here is my new chapter. Bring tissues :)  
> The next one will include more action so please keep reading.

Of course, Crowley couldn't fall asleep.   
Whenever he closed his eyes imagines of the past forced their way into his mind. Torture in the tower of London probably was more enjoyable than dealing with his bad conscience and his anxiety at the same time. He felt broken. 

The worst fear in his entire life had come true this afternoon.

Lucifer... Fucking Lucifer had sat in his living room for drinking tea with his boyfriend. His clueless, sweet, naively careless angel.   
Sometimes he wished his influence on Aziraphale was stronger. Instead, it had always been the other way around. Then he wouldn't welcome anyone, who rang their doorbell, into their home. Damn it. After all they went through in the last months, he should act more carefully.   
Another sigh slipped past his lips while he turned around for the felt thousands time. 

Now he was staring at the black ceiling. He had always loved the darkness. The soothing effect it had on him, whenever it wrapped around him like a protective blanket made of velvet.  
Contrary to many opinions the dark wasn't frightening, rather protective. It hid the terrible contents of life, which instilled fear into one. 

A few centuries ago he had even lost that comfort. Demons could see in the dark. So, now the only consolation and protection he felt was when he was close to his angel.   
Aziraphale. The thought stung in his chest like a dagger splitting his ribs. Once again, his lover was in danger. Only because he had been, no... because he WAS such a coward.

He hadn't realized his nails were digging into the satin sheets, until his knuckles cramped. The sheets were close to giving out, like his sanity.  
After a deep breath he managed to relax a bit. Even so, his heartbeat was still going more than 200 mph.   
Luckily, he couldn't die from a cardiac infarct. Somehow, he was pretty sure he had already suffered under a few during his immortal existence. No, then his right arm would have hurt. Would it? He wasn't sure. 

The human body was still a miracle to him. It worked, but the mortality rate was very high, the whole construct seemed unstable. Even an office chair could destroy it by sitting in it for too long.

Back to the important things. His new job... This thought already left a very bitter taste upon his lips causing him to screw his face.  
Corrupting humanity even more? They were already doing that themselves without any doubt. 

So why did Lucifer have to drag him into Omega once again. In the end it was only a question of time until the dark forces won anyway. Probably pure sadism. The hardest part for him wouldn't be the work, rather hiding it from Aziraphale. 

After Armageddon they both had promised each other to stay on "our side". So, none of them was working for their principalities anymore. At least not actively. Sometimes they couldn't resist, committing a good deed or a temptation here and there. 

If he returned to the service of hell, he would break their promise. If he kept it secret, he'd break another promise: "We don't lie to each other". Still, if he didn't obey, they'd both be in great danger. Especially his lover would be... "Argh, damn it... This is hopeless." He groaned in frustration. 

There was no way around it. He needed picking up his old job again. Otherwise, they both wouldn't have time to argue over broken promises, since they'd be facing the wrath of hell. 

Faith was a sarcastic bitch. 

They were the ones, who had stopped the end of the world. Compared to Omega the antichrist-mystery had been an occupational therapy for heaven and hell. Omega like the name already claimed played in a much higher league. A divine league. 

Sometimes he wondered if the whole Antichrist fiasco had been another try to lead Omega to a success. Or a distraction maneuvers, to prepare everything else in peace. Both would have meant the end of this universe. 

God had never involved herself, so Satan or better said Lucifer hadn't gotten his hands dirty as well. That was the subtle but serious difference between the two projects. The involvement of the two supreme powers on each side.

Lucifer had always desired to face God. Overthrow the savior himself. Taking his place after the great defeat of heaven.   
Crowley knew the devil well enough to acknowledge his undying ambition. Not to mention his willingness to destroy everything around him in the name of his victory. He had always been like this. Some things never change. 

If the apocalypse had taken place, the great war would have happened. After the victory of one side God would descend from her high horse and press the restart button. Inserted a new coin. So, this sick, twisted game could go on... and on... and repeat itself. 

New humans, new demons, new angels, new world... new souls... new wars... Over and over... Repeating itself eternally in eternity. The same bullshit, different time

In the distance the muffled footsteps of his boyfriend reached his ears. The steady rhythm calmed him down. As long as he could hear them, he knew Aziraphale was close to him. Safe. The storm inside of his mind eased, while he focused on the patting sound of the laminate yielding under his feet. The rest of the apartment was wrapped in crushing silence. Usually, he referred to it as peaceful. Once Lucifer had set a foot over the doorstep, all peace had been extinguished.

Now he felt threatened in his own four walls. Just like in the old times.  
Some things never change...

The sudden knock on the door made the angry sigh choke him for a second. He had been so lost in his thoughts; he hadn't noticed Aziraphale had approached the bedroom. Damn it. Lucifer had been right... His guard was at an all time low. 

"Crowley, my dear, are you awake?" the soft but clearly insecure voice of his boyfriend asked through the closed door. If Crowley didn't reply now, he would get suspicious, if he wasn't already. 

So, he cleared his throat, trying to sound sleepy. "Y...Yes. What's wrong, angel?" A few seconds of silence followed, he could imagine him in front of the door mentally forming sentences, that wouldn't imply he was worried. 

"N...Nothing or is something wrong?" his lover's voice answered; a glimpse of hope hidden in that simple question. The denial from earlier, still stung in his back, as if his feather had been plugged. Slowly the door opened, allowing a narrow beam of light to scamper through the room.

A great metaphor for their relationship. The beam of light didn't rip the darkness. They rather respected each other. Simply because they had understood, that one couldn't resist without the other. The scary, gloomy aura of the darkness was enlightened by the few rays of light while the blinding, pure bright was dimmed by the dark. A symbiosis. Aziraphale adored that allegory.

Today it felt like their natural balance had tilted to the dark side. Even though he looked calm on the outside, his entire body was tensed. The answer took his demonic boyfriend far too long. "Crow-" he started, but was cut off by a rather pissed off hiss.

"Stop that! Don't treat me like a child in a confessional! If there was something wrong, I would tell you already. Stop accusing me of not trusting you enough! I know you don't say it, however deep down you're still holding onto that accusation." Crowley snapped at him; in a way he hadn't done it for centuries. Right now, he was so relieved the door was closed. If he had looked into his love's eyes right now, he probably would have shattered into pieces right in front of him. 

"C...Cro... I..." Aziraphale replied, his voice was stuttering, clearly from holding in a sob. 

All of sudden, it changed. "Well maybe I do!" he spoke up, his words soaked with anger. 

The door ripped open, with an unexpected force. The light of the hallway flooded the room illuminating the angel's silhouette. Even his posture looked aggressive a very rare sight. "You're right! I doubt your trust towards me! Otherwise you would finally tell me, what's haunting you for centuries!!" he yelled at him, his brown eyes glowing like hot coals.

"You're insane, if you believe I haven't noticed the changes in your behavior! I am not only speaking off the incident in the living room. Every year there's that one day... the day you either vanish or behave completely different. Captured in thoughts... cold... depressed... Crowley... I... I can't..." his confidence snapped like a match between one's fingers. 

The purgatory in his orbs was extinguished by dwelling up tears. His shoulders slumped as he returned his face to the ground. "I am sorry..." he whimpered.

The demon had sat up in the meantime. Probably so these sentences could lash his back better. That's what they felt like, whip lashes. He deserved them. 

Completely frozen in place, he stared at his boyfriend. Of course, he had noticed... All these centuries he had noticed... This time the lump in his throat wasn't caused by a promise from the past.   
Right now, guilt strangled him. He wished, he could have gotten up, hugged him, told him the truth... His limbs didn't obey. 

"Aziraphale... I..." he started, barely whispering it. 

Finally, he could get up. Mechanically his muscles moved towards his crying partner. It felt so wrong to reach out for him now. Touching him felt like spoiling him. Like an even bigger betrayal than his silence. 

"I am sorry." He managed to get out of his dry throat. At first, it had felt wrong to touch him. Once he had placed a hand on his shoulder, he needed to pull him into his arms. Still careful, as if he was worried about shattering him into a thousand pieces. It took a few seconds, when he suddenly felt the angel's hands cling onto him as if his life depended on it.

"I... don't want to lose you... Can't you see?" his weak, breathy voice asked, while the blonde hid his face in his chest. "I want you to feel as happy as you make me feel, every day... since the very beginning." He whispered desperately.

"Oh angel..." Crowley answered, sounding sadder than ever. Slowly he reached out and pulled up his chin. The warmth of his skin, the warmth of his hand pressed against his ice-cold skin, made him worry even more. Usually his boyfriend was never cold, sometimes freezing, but never cold. He didn't loose any more time. "You make me happy..." he promised him, while their eyes finally met again. Those brown orbs filled with so much pain caused his heart to get pierced by hot nails. Nearly he had gasped for air. "Without you... I would have already bathed in holy water... believe me." He admitted in a dark tone. "I can't express in words how happy you make me... And... I am so sorry..." his voice cracked. Expressing his feelings had never been his strength. 

"Then... why are you keeping secrets from me? Why are you torturing yourself in front of me?" Aziraphale asked full of misunderstanding for his behavior. He bit his bottom lip, for preventing more tears to fall. He looked up into the yellow; sorrow filled eyes of his boyfriend.

"I am not... I am not torturing myself in front of you!" Crowley defended himself, while shaking his head. Secretly he wasn't sure if he wasn't lying through his teeth. "Not anyone can be happy all the time. That's it. I am simply not a happy-go-lucky person. I am a bloody demon." He contradicted, while his thumbs wiped away his tears.

"I know you're a demon. And I am an angel, I can sense if someone is captured in grief." Aziraphale contradicted, compulsorily leaning into his touch anyway. Finally, the burning of his eyes decreased. Rage and Angst mixed, causing him to feel disappointment instead. "Crowley. Can't you see, I am begging you..." he made a last attempt to make his boyfriend open up.

Those words caused Crowley to wince, as if someone had ripped his wings out. His tongue was refusing to speak. In his head, he couldn't find the right words. Whenever he found an explanation, the past got in the way. It was insane. 

Centuries ago, they had doomed him for keeping the ones he loved save... now they were dooming him to hurt them. Bastards...

"Aziraphale..." he whispered, pulling him back into a tight hug. He couldn't bear to look into his eyes right now. 

First promise broken.

"You are right." He confessed, all of sudden. His hands caressed over his lover's back comfortingly. "I have been hiding and torturing myself due to the past... But..." he stopped, he felt like vomiting his heart out with these words. "But you are not the one to help me with that. In fact, you're the last one; I want to get involved in this." He managed to get out, feeling the heart of his lover shatter in his hold, since his entire body was rocked by those words. 

"Why... Tell me... why?" his angel whispered in defeat. His body became more and more numb. The coldness spread, freezing his nerves. Still the shivering of his muscles increased. "I don't need someone to watch over me... I can do that on my own!" he insisted, hoping to change the demon's mind. 

"I know, angel. That's not the reason." Crowley cut him off, since those begs only increased both of their suffering. "The reason is... entirely unrelated to our relationship. I promise you." He tried to calm him down. Right now, he needed to retreat. He was so overwhelmed with all of this. He felt like exploding at any second. "I just need to... to solve this on my own." He begged him.

"On your own? What about "our side"?" Aziraphale asked, tears daring to roll down his cheeks once again.

"Some things can only be fixed by one person." Crowley replied in a bitter tone, while trying to distance himself from him. His angel was only clinging tighter onto his shirt, when he noticed that. 

"No... No... Crowley! You can..." he stuttered out, close to sobbing once again. 

Now or never; the demon thought. Carefully he removed his hands from the fabric of his shirt. He would give in under another crushing sob. "No! I will solve this on my own. I am sorry." He replied, in a rather strict one. "Don't wait for me tonight." He added, while his legs carried him out of the room.

"Crowley!! Don't you dare to leave!!" Aziraphale yelled after him, desperately, but also angrily. "This is not... We can find a solution together. OUR side can find a solution. Please..." his usually soft voice cracked, like his heart. Sobs were replacing his words.

The walk to the door was worse than walking over holy ground. No war, no punishment by neither heaven nor hell had ever hurt the demon so much than this. Expect for one thing... seeing the bookshop on fire. He needed to protect the bookshop now. That's why he was leaving... 

Some things needed to be faced directly. Even if that meant to face his Satan himself.


	4. Lost your frequency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has left for facing the devil once again.  
> Meanwhile Aziraphale struggles against the demons in his mind, trying to convince him the distrust of his partner is his fault.  
> After a while he realizes that this is not the time for self-pity. No, this time he would be the one saving his fiancé!  
> The answer to his problem can be found -not to his surprise- in one of his books.  
> In his mind a dangerous, almost mad plan starts to form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :)  
> Sorry that updating always takes me so long, but I am pretty busy.   
> Also I am writing three fanfictions at the same time and try to update them regularly.   
> This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, since I will split the plots now.  
> Aziraphale will get his own story-line and Crowley will keep fighting with the devil~

Aziraphale stared after him. 

“Crowley…” he whispered one more time, secretly hoping it would make the elevator doors open once more. 

They stayed closed. His fiancé had turned his back on him…

This situation was so surreal for him. Never before had Crowley reacted to him like this. Inside of his chest was a hallow feeling, as if he had taken his heart with him. 

Harsh sobs shook his body, while his nails dug into his palms. He had clenched his fits. Reality was too terrible for him right now; he closed his eyes. He couldn’t differ between rage, hurt and disappointment right now. Despair started to take control.

This was all his fault, wasn’t it? Or was ist Crowley’s? Could anyone even speak off guilt? Why did he have to yell at him? Usually, he knew better… 

The more he sobbed, the emptier his chest felt. Only the painful stinging tortured him a little more with each of his heartbeats. Soon his lungs burnt from the abrupt gasps for air.

Would his lover ever return? He had to… He just had to!

What could be so dangerous, that he couldn’t talk with him out it? Was his partner in danger? For sure. Otherwise, he had reacted differently.

All of sudden he felt hilarious. The realization struck him like a lightning bolt. His sobs died down immediately. How could he stay here and pity himself, while his love was in danger? Slowly he lifted up his head, while straightening his shoulders. This was exactly the reason why the demon hadn’t told him the truth. His overemotional, naïve reactions.

No. He wouldn’t accept this anymore. Quickly he wiped away the tears, that stung into his cheeks like acid. Tears wouldn’t solve their problems either. He would prove his strength to Crowley. Tonight, he wouldn’t let the situation declare him incapable or even worse rely on the mercy of God. 

First, he wanted to run after him, but hesitated… Those words echoed in his ears, emerging into a choir of rejection and misery. 

“Solve this on my own…” 

“the last one, I want to get in involved in this” 

He gulped, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A shivering breath followed. The tears finally subsided. Right now, he couldn’t be soft. His lover was obviously in trouble and not talking about it. So, he had to find out himself. If he had learnt something during his immortal existence: Then persistence and that every answer can be found on the pages of the right book. To be honest he already had a vague idea of where to find the needed information. During the dreadful state caused by the loss of the antichrist he had thought using this to their advantage as well…

If he wanted to find out about Crowley’s past, he needed records that also included the parts of his supernatural life. Tracking down their human existence would have been easier. This time he needed something all-encompassing.

He had always been aware of the fact, that they hadn’t been together all the time. In the early days their paths had crossed here and there. While the angel had always talked happily about his good deeds, the demon had been closed up… At least the higher principalities needed knowing about his work… right? 

Probably he would have to start back at Adam and Eve for finding out about his lover’s secrets. Or even further. Still, it would be worth it, as long as he could those beloved yellow eyes glow with happiness again. Instead of purgatory. Or even worse… not at all. 

With this plan in mind, he left the bedroom. For a second he hesitated in the doorway. This was usually the most peaceful room in the house. He couldn’t resist the nostalgia of this moment. So, he looked back at the ruffled sheets. The entire peace had been broken. With a few words… Only a mess was left behind. Another sting shot through his chest, like an arrow. 

They had already gone through worse things, however this one stung especially. Aziraphale hadn’t seen it coming. No, that was a lie. He had known something felt off but had underestimated the scale of the problem. Now he stood here, nearly incapable of reacting. He wouldn’t just wait for Crowley to solve this. Apparently, he had been overwhelmed with the problem as well. 

These situations were especially dangerous for the demon, since he tended to overreact or act unreasonably. Aziraphale didn’t dare to think about the disasters that could result out of that. If he did, he’d probably be completely incapable of acting. He shook his head for banishing those terrible thoughts. At the moment he needed saving his demon not getting consumed by the ones haunting his mind.

Of course, his steps led him into the only room in the house, that was entirely his dominion. His library. 

Thousands of books shared each other’s company on the walls of the sheer infinite room. Bookshelves guarded them, wreathing up the walls like giant snakes chasing each other’s tails. They were carved out of dark wood and stood out drastically from the thousands and thousands of book spines, which shimmered like gemstones. 

Each and every of them was a real treasure. The wisdom and stories captured inside of them, were the voices of millions of peoples. Interweaving uncountable destinies with each other. There was nothing more human, more valuable than a book. 

The withered sides looked like faces to the angel, who were telling him their stories. Every yellowed book cover, every manuscript was worshipped like a sanctuary by him. 

His library and Crowley were the only constants in his life. Two things he could always rely on to grant him refugee from this cruel world. Wrapped up in cozy, dimmed light surrounded by the sweet smell of books and printing ink, was all he needed to be happy. That… and Crowley…

Today his eyes wandered through the shelf with an unusually concerned expression. Literally, begging the books to give him answers, he didn’t know if they even held. 

“Ethic… Fairy Tales… Geography…” he mumbled, while searching for the right aisle.“Ah! Mythology!” he triumphed; his eyes were glued onto a shelf full of rather old, bruised books. Most of them saved from the fire, which had destroyed the Library of Alexandria.

Back then humans had been more connected to their roots. Also been vaguely aware of the fact that immortal beings, like angels, demons and witches lived upon them. Fortunately, they hadn’t spent centuries on burning them on pyres, instead tolerated them. Actually, welcomed them. Most importantly gathered as much knowledge about them as possible. 

The ancient Greeks had been one of the few and only people during history, who did to not fight what their minds couldn’t grasp. Rather they had tried understanding it. Exactly their understanding of the hierarchy and secrets of either heaven or hell was, what Aziraphale would now use as an advisor. 

He was still in a hurry, so he pulled the ladder close. With a few quick steps, he reached out for Aristotle’s works about the etymology of all good and evil in the world. Of course, the moral philosopher hadn’t known about Eden. Even though Aziraphale had been tempted to tell him. Yet his assumptions and knowledge about the organizational structures in heaven, as well as in hell, had been impressive.

Nearly he tripped over the last step, while clutching onto the bunch of papyrus roles under his arms. Hopefully, they would help him. His heart was still beating at least 90 mph. Usually, he would have put on gloves, so his sweaty hands wouldn’t cause any damage. Tonight, he didn’t have time for that. 

He snapped his fingers for cleaning his desk, which had been overflowing with books and manuscripts. Only for spreading out a new wave of chaos.

Aristotle had been one of his favorite philosophers, so he knew where he had to search. He opened one of the last, slightly messy written roles. The poor man had been on the edge of madness, when he had spilled these words onto the paper. Sometimes the angel still doubted that no demon had possessed him. Of course, not his Crowley. He would never do that.

In his panic he had forgotten putting on his glasses. Frustratedly he sighed. “come on… Focus.” He scolded himself, while putting them on. Now he could decipher the words in front of him.

His fingers caressed over the papyrus, as if he wanted it to spill its secrets itself. “here… it has to be here…” he mumbled distressfully. Talking to himself was one of his nervous habits. Alongside with fiddling with the buttons of his vest or sleeves. “For God’s sake… please.” He begged desperately. 

“There!! Finally!” he triumphed; his finger pointed at one of the last paragraphs.

„Η μελωδία της ψυχής “

“The frequency of souls” he read out loud. Hurriedly his eyes flow over the passage. Without the puffed-up paraphrases the text incarnated the following important information. The angel snatched a piece of paper and started to scribble onto it:

“Every soul vibrates at a certain frequency, which allocates their place in the order of the universe. From their first breath they own an individual pitch, inaudible for every ear, but setting their place in this world. During their existence every encounter with another soul has an impact on their rhythm. They have to vibrate in harmony, or dissonances happen. That always leads to conflict.  
The stronger the discord is, the more they influence the alternative rhythm of the soul.  
So said bad experiences disconcert the soul’s frequency, influencing their fate and life rapidly.

God needed to keep track of each of these melodies, as they function as the ultimate definition of one’s soul. The highest authority decided they needed a touchable form. So, they were manifested as harp-strings.

She handed the powerful instruments to one of her beloved children. The one who now was responsible for examining the frequency of every soul. Afterwards, the archangel was entitled to judge if they belonged to the fallen or the children of god.

Michael.

A shiver of disgust rushed through Aziraphale’s body, causing him goosebumps. He knew who the harp belonged to… His memory hadn’t fooled him there. Unfortunately. The divine instrument belonged to the archangel Michael himself.

How should he get the needed information? Especially after his trial. They wouldn’t simply overlook such a serious disagreement. Also, how should he reason his interest in the demon’s life? 

There was no way around it. If he wanted to find out about his partner’s immortal existence, he needed the harp. Everything else wouldn’t be precise enough. Their problems clearly didn’t concern a mortal matter, they were demonic nature. Therefore, he needed finding a medium, which recorded the entire lifespan in either heaven or hell and on earth. The harp was his only option.

“Damn it!” he swore, freezing in shock afterwards. Now it was already to late for being a hypocrite. “Fucking damn it!” he swore again, actually feeling better afterwards. 

A desperate sigh escaped his lips, while he let himself fall into the chair in front of his desk. His muscles were starting hurting, from the constant tension. Full of concern he stared at the words in front of him. Never he had felt so betrayed and at the same time comforted by them. 

Entering heaven unnoticed wasn’t the problem. Even though they had fooled their colleagues into them being native, both of them still were ethereal and demonic respectively. Nobody would sense him by his aura. The most important part was getting unrecognized. How was he supposed to do that? Even worse, how should he hide his true self so authentically Michael wouldn’t notice it?

He took his glasses off, maybe for not being forced to stare at the document anymore. With another sigh he rubbed the bridge between his forehead and nose. Afterwards, he crossed his hands in front of his belly, for preventing them to rip off the button of his shirt.

Every second he hesitated felt wasted to him. Still, he knew if he didn’t have a proper plan, he could also spend this time on planning his funeral. Getting caught meant another bath in purgatory. 

Why did they always have to exaggerate their punishments so much? Eternal doom! Endless suffering! Sadistic Buggers! Why not ostracize anyone for eternity? Or body-shame them like Gabriel does it all the time? For Aziraphale both of these punishments came close to being burnt.

Suddenly an idea popped up in his head. It was a wild plan. Almost mad. Could he really do that? No… It was too dangerous. Also, hilariously simple. Otherwise, they hadn’t noticed it during the death penalty either.

Michael trusted nobody except for their chef and God herself… He wouldn’t hand the keys to their sanctuary to anyone else, expect for one person.

Aziraphale knew he had to. There was no other possibility of gaining access to the harp. Something deep inside of him told him, he’d never see Crowley again, until he hadn’t figured this out. Or worse things had happened.

For getting the keys to this room, he had to become something he clearly despised from the core of his soul… 

The archangel fucking Gabriel.


	5. The sofa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley attempts to face his personal hell, but ends up in the same situation, which has created his trauma in the first place.  
> Old scenarios, old patterns.  
> He fights and struggles, but in the end... He ends up on that sofa again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! Please don't read if you can't handle the mention of sexual harassment! 
> 
> Hey :) I am sorry to start this chapter with such a dark warning. Also sorry for not updating earlier, but I was stressed out by my personal life.  
> I don't want to take the experience of reading my story away from people, who get triggered by this warning. So if you don't feel comfortable about reading this chapter, please skip it. I will repeat how it effected the plot in the next of Crowley's parts.

Crowley’s driving style usually lacked caution. Tonight, he didn’t care about anything than arriving at his destination as quickly as possible.

For a moment, the voice of his worried boyfriend echoed in his mind: “You can’t go 90 mph in central London.” Once again, he felt his heart sting. All Aziraphale had ever done was worrying about him, yet he had never paid attention to his warnings. To be honest he had even thought of him as a nag, instead of a caring lover. Now, he was even more ashamed for his misconception.

Nevertheless, he forced his black beauty to speed up even more. If his confidence left him, before he could defend himself in front of his worst nightmare, he’d never have the courage to do it. Who knew how it would turn out anyway. In the end he wasn’t contradicting anyone, but Satan himself.

Another shivering breath left his lips; his heartrate was matching the speedometer. 200 mph. Of course, he had taken security measures beforehand. Even in his distressed state, the fear of getting discorporated was branded into his head. So, each car whose unfortunate destiny it was to be in his way tonight got involved in a dangerous accident, without any other car. 

His beloved Bentley got out of with a scratch, most importantly without a trace as well. Miraculously. “Oh, come on, I am even protecting you and you’re making fun off me?” the demon hissed at his car, when the song in the radio suddenly switched to: “Who wants to live forever.” Sometimes its macabre humor even surpassed the one of its owner.

Finally, he stopped in front of the huge glass building. No attention was paid to the parking ban. After all he was about to go to hell who cared about a ticket?

The door swung open, while he forced his tensed legs to leave the car. His knees were shivering, barely willing to carry him inside. “Come on… Don’t be such a coward.” He scolded himself; nails digging into the steering wheel. 

His heartbeat still hadn’t calmed down, in opposite to the engine. No breath seemed to fill his lungs, but he tried not to hyperventilate. Eventually, he managed to push himself out of the leather seat. He felt like he was forced to learn how to walk again.

The past was haunting him in his mind, mixed with the hardly repressed memories of the fight with Aziraphale. No… No… “Bloody hell.” He swore under his breath. He wouldn’t let this get his determination down. Not yet. Later he'd have enough time for an emotional break down, he lied to himself.

The doors in front of him opened automatically. This time he didn’t feel superior while overstepping the porch. Actually, the real opposite. Throughout his existence he had rarely felt so weak and submissive, also humiliated. 

Still he forced himself to approach the escalator. Once he stood on the first step, he stared down into the darkness, which usually felt like a piece of home. Not today. During the ride he tried forming proper, heroic sentences in his mind, but only the thought of facing Lucifer caused nausea to take over his body.

His nose was already blind to the foul smell of fear, despair, burnt flesh, sulfur and other disgusting things. The braindead zombies blocked the floor as always. Those poor souls had taken a few wrong turns in their afterlife and now were hell’s slaves. Only a few ever managed to become demons. Mostly they were food for the hellhounds, workers, and a never-dying energy source.

Tonight, he pushed them aside, usually he tried to avoid touching them. They were disgusting creatures, covered in dirt, pus, plagues, and rotten flesh. At least it distracted him from his anxious thoughts.

A familiar, but still hated, metal-door blocked his way. Behind the business area started. A soft sigh escaped his lips, while he raised his hand to type in the security code. At least he hadn’t run into one of his former colleagues yet. 

“666” and the door opened with a deafening screeching.

Crowley gulped, straightening his shoulders, also relocating his neck. He needed doing this. There was no turning back. For Aziraphale… He entered the calmer area.

The walls were covered with the ashes of centuries. Everywhere laid garbage, papers and rats were sneaking around. The silence was so dominant, almost scary. “Where is everyone?” the ginger wondered, passing through the conference room. 

Here he had pitched his idea for the M25. One of the only projects he had ever put effort in, yet it had come biting him in the ass like always. Boggers. Still all of the other higher demons were missing. Was purgatory-bathing day? No, today was Sunday. Right! It was Sunday! They all were at the virgin sacrifice.

He had never taken part in this kind of group activities. Too bad they had never sacrificed Hastur before, he would have met all the requests: too ugly to have ever been laid, too stupid to notice what was going on and most importantly useless. 

Instead of going to the “party room”, he took a different turn. Immediately his steps felt heavier, as if with every meter another leg iron wrapped around his ankle. His panic reached a new peak, when the next door appeared in front of him.

While his head got messier, his surroundings grew tidier. The black walls weren’t covered in dirt anymore; they actually were meant to be black. Crowley could see his reflection in the cold marble. For a moment he hesitated. Even though he felt so determined he was facing a pale, intimidated version of his himself. The dark rings under his eyes made him look centuries older. At least he straightened his shoulders again.

The door in front of him was a monument for greed. At least four meters high, forged out of obsidian, decorated with demons, flames and other horror scenarios made out of gold and gemstones. Instead of a doorknob or a terminal, there was a huge doorknocker in the form of a pentagram.

Only the highest demons were allowed to enter this area. Everyone else would have seen it as the greatest honor to be welcomed behind this door. Crowley had always wished and would always wish for never being forced to enter this room again. 

Out of experience he knew, that the knocker was only decoration. When he was only a few steps away from the gate, it swung open soundlessly. The familiar smell of open fire, cigars, and an aftershave he’d recognize everywhere hit him in the face like a punch. He gagged, nearly spinning around on his heal for running off. 

“Crawly, have you missed me already?” the smooth, deep voice purred, filled with sadistic satisfaction. “Why don’t you come in? I haven’t welcomed you here in centuries.” He invited him, sounding seductive, even though he was luring the lamb into the lion’s den.

“N… Not even in your dreams.” Crowley tried countering, but it turned out into a stuttered reply than a hiss. He had taken a defensive posture, head retracted between his shoulders. Still snakes did that as well, when they were about to bite.

“Why so shy? Back in the old days, you’ve never been so hesitant to enter my office.” Lucifer asked, with a raised eyebrow. Afterwards, he sipped the drink in his hands, black absinth, as usual. Nothing had changed here.

The ginger gulped heavily, trying to not let the memories pull him under. All his thoughts were screaming at him. Meanwhile, he tried to find a logical reply. His breath got heavier with every second of silence between them. Hopefully, the tension of his body would make him burst into a million of pieces right now.

All of sudden, an angry bark ripped him out of his thoughts. Immediately he jumped forward, away from the noise. Now he had crossed the line. On his way even lost the last barrier between them, his sunglasses.

He had entered his personal hell.

With a panting breath he glanced out into the hallway. In front of him stood a monster of a black rottweiler, with three heads. Piercing red eyes were trying to spot the most delicious part of his body. Salvia dripped from knife-long fangs; a deep growl emerged from their throat. A true beast.

“I see, you remember Kerberos. Looks like he remembers you too.” Lucifer chuckled, obviously amused by his fear. With a silent whistle he turned the monster into a pet dog. Raised hackles flattened, lips formed a happy expression, tail started to whack. A soft whimper escaped the hell hound, while it approached its master. After it had lied down beside him, the devil started petting him.

“Remember, when you were so easy to control?” he sighed, while setting down the glass on his mahogany desk. “Damn, I miss these days.” He added with a nostalgic smile, his gaze wandered over the walls. They were decorated with expensive paintings, trophies from the past… Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam”, lined up beside Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa”. Countless other masterpieces by artists who were now suffering in the bottomless pit for eternity.

“I’ve never been your lap dog.” Crowley managed to growl, refusing to sit down in one of the expensive, leather chairs in front of the desk. He wouldn’t stay long. Actually, he couldn’t stay long, otherwise he’d probably break down. All the time he avoided looking at the black couch in the corner of his eye.

“Well, then our memories differ. After my opinion, they often do that. At least after your disrespectful attitude towards me.” He assumed, obviously displeased by this development.

“I have so many reasons to disrespect you.” The other demon spat, finding back to his confident self. A poor attempt of an even poorer character to rebel. Of course, Lucifer had to extinguish that spark before it could turn into a wildfire.

“What about my reasons to disrespect you?” he asked with a dangerous purr, while getting up from his chair. The fireplace behind him flickered, due to his slowly awakening aura. All eyes, especially the ones of the huge portrait of Lucifer himself, were staring at Crowley now. He was prey here.

“You don’t have a reason. Not a single one.” The ginger tried to stay confident but found himself taking steps backwards the closer his boss got. The imagination of getting touched by him, here… in this office… was sending shivers of hot nails digging into his nerves down his spine. 

“I don’t? Right now, I can think of so many reasons to directly execute you here. But I would never do that to an old friend, you know that.” The devil replied in a sharp tone, changing into a hypocritical loving tone. He turned back around, picking up his glass again. It had miraculously refilled itself. “Care for a drink?” he offered, with a wicked grin, trying to reduce the tension between them.

“No. You know exactly why I am here.” Anthony hissed back, taking a step back in defeat. He couldn’t bear his near. 

“You’ve really forgotten about your manners.” Lucifer scolded him; smirking victoriously when he managed to force him back. “Yes, you’re right. I know why you’re here. Unfortunately, I can’t grant you any of your wishes.” He looked at the black, shimmering liquid in his glass, before sipping it again. 

“You will have to, because I won’t. And I can only repeat myself, won’t get myself involved in Omega again.” Crowley dared to deny his offer. His heart skipped a beat. Did he really say this? He could barely believe his own bravery.

“You’ve never been uninvolved in Omega. And I already told you, you have no choice. Otherwise, you’ve moved on and forgot about your stupid obsession over that worthless angel.” The taller male replied, still calm, but he shot him a death glare. 

“N… NO! I won’t take it anymore! I am done of being terrorized by you! I will not bow! You will leave us alone, forever. Stop getting lost in that sick twisted fantasies of overthrowing God! You’ve already failed once, isn’t that enough?” Crowley burst out all of sudden, allowing his emotions to take control. He had never raised his voice against him before.

“You ruined so many existences. Still you’re unwilling to give up. GIVE UP! It’s over Damien! GET.OVER.IT!” he yelled at him, even dared to use his mortal name. Silence lingered between them like the hatched of a guillotine. His breath panted. The adrenalin rushing through his veins made him feel invincible. 

It didn’t last long.

Lucifer stared at him in disbelief. No emotion was visible on his face. Suddenly an amused smirk blossomed over his lips. In the calmest of ways, he sat the glass down on the table. The ultimate sign, he wasn’t taking this seriously at all. If it hadn’t been him, it would have enraged Crowley even more.

A deep, hearty laugh escaped the devil, bearing so much scorn. The confused expression of his opposite only made it more amusing. This plague dared to man up against him. What a funny scenario.

All of sudden he took a few steps forward. “Looks like you’ve forgotten about your place.” He growled dangerously.  
He forced him back more and more, until he stumbled over the coffee table in front of the sofa. Lucifer reacted quickly and grabbed his wrists. With another harsh push he pinned him against the cold leather of the couch. 

With a sadistic smile, his angry glance wandered over the shivering, panting mess under him. Of course, the weaker one was struggling against his hold, trying to escape like a cornered mouse. 

Crowley hadn’t had enough time to react. In a few seconds his entire world had flipped upside down. Fear had paralyzed him, until the sofa hit his back. A pained gasp escaped him. The pain in his spine kicked off a wave of memories.

Panic took over.

He struggled against the hold desperately, scratching him, even thinking off biting him. In his chest, he couldn’t differ between his pulse and breathes anymore. Gasping, hissing, and whimpering escaped his lips. Not the couch… Not this couch… 

“Remember this? I can tell you do.” Lucifer purred into his ear; his hot breath tickled his face. He was indulging in the fear and panic of his old friend. He tightened the hold around his wrists, while his knee pinned his lower half down. “Stop struggling. It’s hopeless.” He ordered quite amused by his weak tries to escape. Eventually his resistance died down. 

Completely paralyzed, as stiffen as a plank of wood Crowley laid there. His breath still panting, he felt like drowning. Fear was screaming behind his eyes. “Get off me.” He begged; his voice hoarse, almost sobbing.

“No, because you will listen to me carefully now.” His master denied him, pushing him into the cushions more. His lips were nearly touching his neck while he whispered in a low, extremely dangerous tone “You will obey me at all cost. Omega is so close to become a success. So, you will either stay in line and do your bloody job or I will take old measures again. Of course, I haven’t forgotten about your fiancé either.” One of his hands came down to his cheek, patting it with his flat fingers. “Is that clear?” he growled angrily. 

Crowley felt like vomiting any second. This couldn’t be true… Not again. Never again… He couldn’t fight back. Every touch drowned him further in the pictures of his past. Then it snapped. His resistance simply snapped. He fell limp against the couch, mumbling. “Y…Yes master.” 

Old scenarios, old patterns.

“Good boy.” Lucifer praised him, finally getting up again. “And now leave, I still have work to do.” He demanded strictly, pointing at the door.

Without thinking twice, the demon jumped up. He ran for his dear life. Away from those memories… that man… the couch… He didn’t remember his way out. Just that terrible feeling. Trapped… Captured… Shattered to pieces.

He tripped at the top of the escalator. When he hit the ground, he couldn’t take it anymore. There he curled up. Slowly he pulled his knees close to his chest, rocking himself back and forth for comfort.

The sofa…


End file.
